


Doctor, Not an Engineer

by Jemppu



Series: Honey Mushroom [35]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Art, Culmets - Freeform, Fanart, M/M, Tumblr, honey mushroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemppu/pseuds/Jemppu
Summary: Part of"Honey Mushroom"series of illustrated Culmets momentslisted here on tumblr.A quick meet in the mess hall.With illustration:"Another Moment Gone"
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Series: Honey Mushroom [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1080993
Kudos: 10





	Doctor, Not an Engineer

**Author's Note:**

> The series gets released quite out of order, as inspiration dictates, so I urge you to check out the [series list on tumblr](https://tinyurl.com/honeyshroom) for a better picture of the whole.

## 

## Doctor, Not an Engineer 

  
Hugh is sitting in the mess hall on his lunch break, awaiting Paul to show up. Or that’s what he had originally come here for anyway.  
  
However, right now he is concentrating too hard on this something, which he has tried to figure out the whole week, to really notice the passage of time at all.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, Paul comes by huffing, carrying a tray in one hand, resting on his forearm, and a stack of devices hanging precariously under his other arm, “I know I’m late. As usual”.

Usual in general. Hugh had joked once, that Paul’s wont to master the mycelial network travel was so that he could indeed just jump from place to place efficiently, without care for bothersome travel times.  
  
Paul drops the tray on the table with a not too graceful clang, to free his hand and stop the devices from slipping loose, just in time to prevent further clangs from sounding out.  
  
“Oh, are you?”, Hugh remarks absentmindedly, without a hint of apparent sarcasm in his voice either. The doctor seems a bit out of it.  
  
“You’re not sulking, are you?” Paul asks unsure, laying the pile of devices on the table and pulling out a chair, trying to get a hold of Hugh’s expression from the man’s downwards turned gaze.  
  
“What?” Hugh sounds confused as he finally raises his gaze from his PADD, “no, sorry. Glad you could make time for this”, he smiles. Again, sincerely.  
  
He knows the recluse scientist usually takes advantage of his more flexible schedule to avoid the mess hall during the busiest break hours, so Hugh appreciates Paul agreeing to show up here for the Beta shift’s lunch.  
  
Hugh stops to observe his man arrange a spread of PADDs in front of him, and realizes his sincerity might have been prematurely expressed after all.  
  
“Nice barricade”, Hugh remarks wryly, pointing his fork towards the row of PADDs now laid out between the men, “I see you came prepared to spend some real quality time with me, away from work”.  
  
Paul’s brows furrow with a mixture of sheepish guilt and irk for it, “sorry, it’s killing me at the moment”, “Got to get these calculations done, or it will be another all-nighter ahead”.  
  
Hugh sighs relenting, takes an unenthusiastic bite of his by now lukewarm meal and turns back to his own PADD, “It’s okay, I’m kinda busy with a project myself”.  
  
No doubt related to those calculations too, Hugh ponders, as the couple fall silent, both keenly fixed to their screens.  
  
They must have not tested the Spore Drive for days now then. Not since Paul had seen it fit to inject himself with the Tardigrade DNA and get pierced by those spore drive injection rods through his sides. Without any prior consultation. Whole ship might be praising the man for his heroism, but for Hugh it had seemed damn reckless first and foremost. Damn stupid.  
  
Hugh is still left nurturing the after effects of the puncture wounds, and monitoring the effects of the alien genome in his man’s bloodstream. He had since shared some pretty fierce words with Paul too - demanded that the man tell him the next time they are about to test the Drive in action again - Paul objecting to the fact that it _“wasn’t a fucking test”_.  
  
Hugh had assured he would in the meanwhile try and figure out a way to connect Paul to the drive without having to have to injure him in the process, and this is exactly what he is currently working on. Juggling ideas for possible entry methods, and locations on Paul’s body on which to connect him up to the Spore Drive. Which in itself is a mad thought: he is trying to hook up a man to a starship as a part of the navigation system. To literally attach a man to a Federation starship. Who, on top of this absurdity, isn’t even too fond of being part of the Fleet or this starship business in the first place.  
  
A man, who likely hasn’t had any time to think about the matter either - clearly in too goal oriented state of mind at the moment to care of any consequences apart from getting the Drive to work. Like with the damn DNA debacle.  
  
The man in question, who is currently huffing quite irately opposite to Hugh. Twitching about distractingly.  
  
“What are you fidgeting there for?” Hugh finally asks mildly annoyed, after a while of trying to ignore the excessive squirming. “…Honey?” he adds softly, but quite manufactured, after realizing that might’ve come out more irritated, than reasonable.  
  
This problem he’s tackling, and the looming deadline - unknown but inevitable - are getting him unnecessarily agitated.  
  
“Damn these uniforms again”, Paul mutters, tugging on his sleeves uncomfortably, “fucking useless”.  
  
Hugh pauses his work, and concentrates on observing Paul desperately trying to roll up the tight jacket sleeves out of his way. The doctor is suddenly reminded of the man’s continued struggle with them.  
  
“You **do** have the tendency of rolling up your sleeves, don’t you?” Hugh ponders to himself, barely audible.  
  
Even if just now realizing the potential applications here, it’s hardly news to the doctor, how the man usually likes to roll up his sleeves, especially when ever going to work. Residue habit of the man’s “mushroom gardening” background perhaps?  
  
How could Hugh **not** have noticed: the practice always proudly displays that thick, white coat of manly hair on Paul’s forearms, which Hugh hasn’t shied away from telling he finds immensely attractive, much to Paul’s bemusement.  
  
“How didn’t I think of that before!” Hugh exclaims merrily.  
  
“What?”, Paul suddenly jolts back to regard his man, having not paid attention to any of this intense examining.  
  
“Two birds with one stone”, - rather a savage proverb somewhere from Earth’s history - Hugh beams as he rises from the table, “Sorry, Mushroom, the break’s over. I gotta go see someone right away”.  
  
“Two what? See who?” Paul asks confused, having no idea what the man is going on about. Dear Doctor seems to be administering him some serious ‘Paul Stamets’ treatment.  
  
“I think I just figured out the solution to that Spore Drive connection” Hugh explains elevated, “I need to ask for consultation on it however - if it would be a technically feasible idea”.  
  
Hugh had **just** earlier today brought the subject up with a technician buddy of his on their morning jog, asking if they would have any ideas. They had promised to help how ever they could.  
  
“Seeing how you seem to have distractions of your own, I suppose you won’t mind, if I leave you here alone?” Hugh asks, making a sweeping motion with his hand, from the lunching crowd around them and across Paul’s litter of PADDs, suspecting the man might object to being left behind among the masses by himself.  
  
“Yes, no. Not at all…”, Paul stammers, “but who better to answer your questions on things regarding the Spore Drive than your main man right here?” Paul leans back and spreads his arms open wide to gesture all inquiries welcome.  
  
“Sorry, Honey. I need an actual engineer”, Hugh blurts out.  
  
“Ouch”, Paul remarks and leans back over his work. True, but blunt still. He is trying his best to learn.  
  
“A Med Technician”, Hugh specifies, while gathering up his stuff from the table.  
  
“I’d still like to hear of this idea of yours” Paul tries to carefully pry something out of his man, “you will need me eventually anyway, to figure out the compatibility. Don’t think I’ll let just anyone come make modifications to Justin’s setup”.  
  
“Of course, of course, Mushroom”, Hugh assures, leaning in to give a kiss on Paul’s forehead - quick and discreet enough so that the PDA-allergic man has no time or reason to object. “Don’t worry, Honey. Nothing gets put on you, or on Straal’s device without obviously asking you first”.  
  
“I just need a professional opinion before getting my hopes up on this”, Hugh pats Paul’s shoulder, “I’m a doctor, not an engineer”.  
  
“See you in the evening, Honey”, the doctor then smiles and turns to leave, “I’ll get you your rolled up sleeves still”.  
  
“Wait? You what?” Paul pauses in confusion, then dares drawing unwanted attention from the crowd by raising his voice enough to call out after Hugh, “Wasn’t this about the Spore Drive connectivity?!”  
  
But the doctor is gone and Paul is left alone at the table, wondering, with the suddenly all too audible chatter of strangers around him reminding how lucky he is to have this man with him.  
  
Paul glances at the work in front of him, realizing the real urgency of getting these calculations done by the evening. And it has nothing to do with the progress of the project or Captain’s orders.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts on the work posted along with the illustration on [**tumblr**](https://jmalkki.tumblr.com/post/180983615549/another-moment-gone-this-narrative-is-another-one).
> 
> _Likes, shares, comments and what have you, all appreciated on:_  
>  _[ **tumblr**](http://jmalkki.tumblr.com/) | [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/Jemppu) | [**instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/jeminamalkki/) | [**DeviantArt**](https://www.deviantart.com/jemppu)_


End file.
